Never Really Alone
by Boy On Strings
Summary: Scott finds a Valentine's Day card in his locker. Stiles has a plan. Nothing turns out the way they thought it would.
1. BAM! It's Valentine's Day

**Author's Notes:**

**I've gotten some requests from people who wanted to see some Scott/Stiles stuff. Hopefully this will end up being a good Valentine's Day gift to people who are looking for that. It's not going to be a long story I don't think, just two or three chapters but hopefully you all like it. **

**Disclaimers: Set ****before the show starts. Going to contain some graphic male/male sexual situations. I'm sure none of you are shocked by that unless this is the first story of mine you've read. I don't own Teen Wolf, don't do this for money. I just do this for fun, and because all of you are awesome.**

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><p>The day was finally coming to an end. Scott sighed in relief. Valentine's Day was hell for him. He always spent it alone, or with his mom. No one was interested in the asthmatic bench warmer on the lacrosse team. He wanted to make first line. He wanted it more than anything else in the world. He leaned his head against his locker; let the cool metal soothe him. He turned his head to the side, saw couples exchanging cards and chocolates. He sighed again. He wouldn't mind a Valentine though, that'd be almost as good as first line.<p>

He pulled his head back, unlocked his locker. There was a red envelope inside. He grinned; his day suddenly started looking up. He pulled out the card, hands shaking with excitement. He hadn't been expecting to get anything; maybe he had a secret admirer. He hesitated after getting his thumb under the sealed paper. He glanced left and right down the hall. He hoped it wasn't a joke. He didn't think he could deal with the pain of something like that today. He didn't see anyone watching him; no one was ever watching him.

He ran his hand along the paper, swore as it cut into his skin. He sucked his thumb into his mouth. He'd never get first line if he could get cut up by a stupid piece of paper. He shook his head. He finished opening the envelope. He was looking at the back of a Hallmark card. He flipped it over. There was a picture of Batman on the front. The superhero was drawn as though he was delivering an uppercut to an invisible bad guy. Scott flipped the card open. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or be disappointed. Inside the the card said, _'__**BAM! **__You're my Valentine bro!'_

Scott chuckled. There was a piece of paper inside the card. He pulled it out and unfolded it. There was a homemade coupon inside. It said, _'The bearer of this coupon is entitled to some pizza, a chocolate bar, and a high five from his best friend.'_ At the bottom in fine print it also said, _'Redeemable this Valentine's Day only, please present coupon to one Stiles's Stilinski at his place of residence because he doesn't want to spend another Valentine's Day alone.'_

Scott grinned. Stiles was such a dork. Hanging out eating pizza sounded better than sitting around at home. His phone rang, he blinked as he pulled it out of his pocket. It was his mom.

"Hello?"

"I just got your flowers," his mother said, "You didn't have to do that."

Scott smiled; he held the phone with his head and shoulder as he put his books in his locker. "I know," he said, "but I wanted to do something for you. Every pretty lady deserves flowers on Valentine's Day."

"You're such a sweet boy; you're going to be such a great boyfriend when you meet the right girl in college."

Scott rolled his eyes. He closed and locked his locker, turned to head outside, careful not to run into anyone as he continued talking on the phone. "Why when I'm in college? Why not now?"

He heard his mom scoff, it made him smile. "High School girls are dumb; trust me I used to be one. They never notice the good ones."

Scott shook his head as he opened the door. He walked over to the bike rack, kneeled down to unlock his bike. "Everyone's mom thinks they're a catch."

"Mom's are always right. If you learn nothing else from being a teenager it should be that."

Scott glanced over the parking lot. Stiles's jeep was already gone. He wanted to drop by a convenience store and pick up an ironic Valentine's card to give to his friend, maybe he'd find some small present too. He hadn't thought of getting Stiles something. Guys didn't normally give each other stuff on Valentine's Day when it wasn't required by teachers anymore.

"Hey mom, I was thinking about hanging out with Stiles tonight. We were going to get pizza and talk about how cool we aren't."

His mom laughed, he wasn't sure if he should laugh too or if he should be offended that she wasn't defending him.

"That's fine, I'm working late, are you coming home tonight or staying over there?"

"Depends on if I fall asleep while playing video games." Scott climbed onto his bike, steadied it with his feet. He pulled his backpack off, tucked the lock inside before putting it back on. "I'll be quiet when I come in if I come home, don't worry." Scott heard someone talking to his mother, couldn't make out what they were saying through the phone line.

"Yeah, they're from a secret admirer. I know I was shocked too, maybe one of the cute interns," his mother said.

Scott scrunched his face up. He did not want to think of his mother and an intern. "Mom!"

"Oh, sorry honey." His mother didn't sound all that sorry though. "I just wanted to seem not so lonely and pathetic on Valentine's Day."

Scott frowned. "You're not pathetic, mom. You're not alone either. You have me."

"I take back what I said earlier," his mom said.

Scott stared down at the ground, scratched his head with his free hand. "What?"

"You're going to find a girlfriend soon, just be nice to them the way you're nice to me."

He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Thanks. You're the best."

"Don't forget your inhaler! Don't listen to the Sheriff's calls, and don't get into any trouble."

Scott sighed. "I take back what I said earlier."

There was a moment of silence from the other side of the phone. "What?"

Scott grinned. "You're not the best, but you're still pretty good."

"You're lucky I can't hit you upside the head."

He laughed. "Love you."

"Love you."

He hung up the phone, backed his bike out of the rack. It was Friday so he didn't need to get clothes to wear to school the next day. He figured he's go to the store, grab a last minute gift for Stiles then head straight over.

Scott dialed Stiles's number. It only rang once before his friend picked up.

"Sup?"

"Hey, I'm planning on redeeming my coupon tonight." Scott felt a little silly saying it. He started pedaling slowly, steering with one hand as he navigated the school's parking lot.

"Awesome, my dad's working late. You know what that means?" Stiles sounded excited. Scott was immediately suspicious.

"That it's just like most nights?" Scott almost fell off his bike when a silver Porsche tore through the parking lot, it nearly clipped him. He gasped in shock, steadied his bike with his feet as he came to a stop. Panic flooded his body, the car had been close enough that he felt the wind whip through his hair. He started wheezing.

"You okay?" Stiles asked.

He whipped out his inhaler, took a steady deep breath. "Yeah, Jackson just almost hit me with his car." Scott hated Jackson so much. He was a total dick. He was probably on his way home to throw away the hundreds of extra Valentine's Day cards he'd gotten. Scott hoped he choked on all the chocolate.

"So just another day in paradise huh?"

Scott heard the sound of screeching tires. "Dude, what the hell was that?" Scott asked, concerned that his friend had just been in an accident. He didn't hear the sound of breaking glass or an explosion though.

"When did they put a stop sign at Sycamore and Kennedy?" Stiles sounded genuinely confused.

"Probably when they built the roads?" Scott started pedaling again. He watched for other cars with drivers who weren't paying attention. He wished he had a car. If he had a car he might have a girl.

"Huh… I don't think I've ever stopped here before," Stiles said.

Scott laughed. Stiles had a car, but no girl, maybe it wasn't a necessity. "Glad to see you're paying so much attention to driving." Stiles must not have taken any Adderall today.

Stiles sighed, "Whatever man, I got more important things to focus on."

Scott stopped at the red light at the corner of the school's block. He looked over at the parked car. One of the band members was making out with a girl from theater. He sighed, love was everywhere. Even the band nerds had girlfriends. Life sucked.

He headed towards the convenience store when the light turned green. He was thinking about getting Stiles a small stuffed teddy bear or maybe a cute little puppy with a heart. He hoped the stuffed animal could protect him from his own insane disregard for safety.

"What are you focused on then?" Scott asked.

"I scored a bottle of Jack. You and me, we're going to get totally wasted and forget about all the girls who aren't interested in the two finest dudes in Beacon Hills. Well, I didn't so much score a bottle of Jack as you know; I'm going to borrow it from my father."

Scott tried to think of what girls weren't interested in Jackson and whoever the other finest dude in Beacon Hills was. He wasn't sure why they'd need to forget girls like that. That would be exactly the type of girls they needed.

"Who's the other finest dude in Beacon Hills?" Scott asked. He looked both ways as he pedaled through another intersection. He didn't want someone like Stiles to run him down; he'd never even kissed a girl yet. He needed to do that and make first line before he died.

"What? What are you talking about? I'm talking about you and me. We're the finest dudes in Beacon Hills. We're the ones the girls should be burying under Valentine's cards and chocolates."

"I wonder why they aren't," Scott said.

He knew the answer though. He and Stiles were losers. He wasn't sure when it'd happened, but at some point they'd been labeled that. It wasn't the sort of thing someone could shake off. If he could make first line though, if he could just do something that made him stand out he'd be able to finally be someone. People would notice him. He'd get the girl, life would be like he saw on television and in movies.

"It's cause you're a dork," Stiles said. "Despite my best efforts, you continue to be a dork."

Scott laughed. "Dude, we've been trying to not be dorks since middle school."

"Do or do not, there is no try," Stiles said.

"Stiles…" He couldn't believe his friend had said that considering the context of their conversation. It was like he was in denial. It was sort of sad and funny at the same time. Scott wondered if this type of conversation was why they didn't have girlfriends.

"Yeah?" Stiles still sounded distracted.

He hoped Stiles didn't get into a wreck. He should probably get him off the phone so he could focus on driving. "You just quoted Star Wars during a conversation about us being not cool."

"Damn…"

Scott laughed again. He turned into the store's parking lot, slowed his speed by dragging his shoes across the concrete. "Gotta go man, I'll be over in a little bit."

"Later," Stiles said.

Scott dropped his phone back into his pocket. His stomach grumbled. He was ready for pizza. He considered grabbing a snack to eat before heading over. He adjusted the straps of his backpack on his shoulders as he headed into the store to find something to give Stiles for Valentine's Day.

He wasn't looking forward to the hang over he knew he'd have in the morning. When Stiles wanted to get drunk he wanted to get _drunk_. Scott headed down the aisle that was covered in hearts and lace. Spending Valentine's Day with Stiles eating pizza and getting drunk still beat spending it alone.


	2. Dinner is Served

Scott tried to let himself into the Stilinski house, but was shocked to find that it was locked. He knocked on the door. Stiles normally left it unlocked when they had plans like this. Scott peered into the red gift bag he was holding while he waited, he couldn't see anything with all the white tissue paper he'd crumpled up and stuffed inside. It wasn't like professionally wrapped, but Stiles probably wouldn't complain. Stiles liked gifts.

He was just about to knock again when the door was cracked open slightly. A single brown eye watched him through the tiny opening. Scott tilted his head at his friend, raised his eyebrows.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked. Stiles was being weirder than normal. Scott would have been surprised if he wasn't mildly frightened, exceptionally weird Stiles was a recipe for catastrophe.

"It's not ready yet," Stiles said. "Wait out there for a second. You were too fast."

"Are you seri—"

The door slammed in his face before he could finish. Scott stared at the door. He debated knocking again; instead he turned and sat down on the porch. He set the gift bag aside, shrugged off his backpack.

Cars passed by. Scott pulled his knees up to his chest, rested his chin on them. Stiles should have just told him when he wanted him to come by. Scott glanced at the red bag at his side; it would serve Stiles right if he decided to eat the chocolate inside instead of giving it to him.

Scott sighed. He watched a leaf fall from the branch of the tree across the street. Stiles neighbors got home, gave him curious looks as they went inside. He waved, wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He wondered if he could get in trouble for loitering on the Sheriff's porch.

Scott heard the door open behind him. He turned his upper body, twisted his neck around to look. Stiles was pulling the door closed, using his body to obscure Scott's view of the inside. Scott climbed to his feet, grabbed his backpack and the gift bag.

Stiles eyed the red bag curiously. "Honey, you didn't have to."

Scott shrugged, rolled his eyes at Stiles. "Whatever, I just figured I should get you something since you got me something."

Stiles's eyebrows shot up. "Who told you I got you something?" He looked about suspiciously as if there was someone hiding in the yard who was giving away his secrets.

"Duh, you did. You left a card in my locker remember?" Scott said. He gestured at the door with his backpack. "We going inside or just standing out here."

"Put this on," Stiles said, he pulled a bandana out of his pocket.

"No." Scott would have crossed his arms if he wasn't holding two bags.

Stiles frowned at him. "You have to, you'll ruin the surprise."

Scott narrowed his eyes at Stiles. "What surprise?"

"I can't tell you, dumbass, that's why it's called a surprise." Stiles waved the bandana at him.

Scott eyed the red and white cloth suspiciously. Stiles had crossed out of the weird zone, was officially in bizzaro world. Scott looked away, set the gift bag down. He shrugged his backpack on, reached out for the bandana.

Stiles handed it to him, leaned over to make a grab for the red gift bag. Scott stepped in front of it. Stiles leaned to the side, tried to get a look at what was inside.

"What's in the bag?" Stiles asked. He craned his neck further to the side trying to investigate.

"I can't tell you, dumbass. It's a surprise." Scott grinned at his friend.

"Touché." Stiles licked his lips, tapped his foot impatiently.

Scott sighed, tied the bandana in place over his eyes. He reached down and picked up the gift bag. He heard Stiles's shoes scuff along the porch as he moved around. He jumped slightly when Stiles's hands came down to rest on his shoulders.

"I swear if you run me into something I'm going to beat the crap out of you." Scott reached out ahead of him with one hand. Stiles began to shuffle him forward.

"We've known each other for years, trust me." Stiles steered Scott into the house.

"The fact that we've known each other for years makes me trust you less."

"Point taken," Stiles said.

Scott almost tripped over something lying in the middle of the floor. Stiles managed to catch him, one hand on his backpack, the other by catching hold of the back of his belt. Scott's free hand flailed through the air. His breathing picked up slightly. He was going to kill Stiles.

"Strike one." Scott said.

"You don't even play baseball," Stiles said. "Sorry, I forgot I left my lacrosse bag there."

"Why are we doing this?" It came out more of a whine than he'd meant it to. He just didn't want to stumble through the clutter of Stiles's house with a blindfold on.

"We're doing it because we're lame. If we had girlfriends we wouldn't have to do this." Stiles steered him towards the dining room.

Scott thought he knew Stiles's house well enough that he could navigate it while blind. He cracked his knuckles against the wall, clearly he'd been wrong. He huffed in annoyance, though his stomach grumbled at the smell of pizza. Scott licked his lips. The smell of garlic was in the air too.

"Stiles…"

"Just a couple more steps." Stiles kept steering him by his backpack and belt. Scott lamented his total lack of dignity. "Okay," Stiles said. "You can take it off now."

Scott reached up with his free hand, pulled the bandana off his head. He ran a hand through his mop of hair, tried to make it a little less unruly as he glanced around the dining room. Candles were spread throughout the room. Soft light flickered, caused the silverware on the table to shine. Two places had been set up, complete with wine glasses filled with something dark. It looked like soda.

"What is this?" Scott whispered.

"Valentine's Day dinner," Stiles said. "You like?"

"It looks like a date. Are you finally coming out to me?" Scott tried to laugh, but it came out a little squeaker than he intended.

"Yeah," Stiles said.

Scott reached for his inhaler. He couldn't breathe; it wasn't what he had been expecting. Stiles really had taken him to bizzaro world. Scott glanced down at the red bag in his hand. His gifts suddenly took on a different meaning.

"Relax; I'm just messing with you. It's a mock date. You know, practice or whatever. I wanted to see what you thought of what I had in mind if I had a girlfriend."

Scott took a deep breath with the help of his inhaler. He opened his mouth, but a loud ding interrupted him. Stiles moved around him, headed toward the kitchen.

"It's cute that I take your breath away buddy," Stiles said. "Make yourself at home; I'm going to get the garlic bread out of the oven."

Scott walked back into the living room, set his backpack down on the couch. The night was going to be weirder than he'd ever imagined. Loneliness had clearly driven Stiles insane. Scott glanced down at the red bag in his hands. Yeah, he might have gone overboard too. At least he hadn't set up dinner. A delicious smelling dinner…

He walked back into the dining room. There were little name cards sitting on the plates. Scott shook his head, sat down in front of the plate with his name on it. He leaned forward, sniffed at the wine goblet. It smelled like whiskey and a tiny bit of soda. That was going to burn going down.

Scott glanced at the pizza; it had sausage, mushroom, and green peppers. Those were his favorite toppings. Stiles normally favored pepperoni, olives, and ham. Scott grinned, Stiles was bringing his best game. There were small shakers of parmesan, crushed red pepper, and what he guessed was oregano on a plate next to the pizza.

Stiles came back into the room carrying a cutting board with a loaf of garlic bread on it. He set it on the table, along with a knife to cut it with. Scott grinned at him. Stiles was an awesome cook, but he'd been expecting them to order pizza. This was so much better. Stiles sat down next to him, shook out a napkin and tucked it into his shirt collar. Scott shook his head.

"What?" Stiles asked. He grinned. "I don't want to get anything on my awesome threads."

"Nothing…" Scott smiled, shook out his napkin and tucked it into his shirt collar to match his friend. He didn't think either of them owned any awesome threads.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do so he just sat there, watched as Stiles cut the pizza and the bread. He rubbed his hands together when Stiles placed portions on each of their plates. Stiles was going to make a great boyfriend for someone one day. Lydia had no idea what she was missing out on.

"Do you need anything else?" Stiles asked.

Scott shook his head, reached out and took an experimental sip out of the goblet. He winced slightly at the strength of the drink. It was just as he imagined, though it might not have been soda, maybe just brown food coloring. Mostly it just tasted like whiskey.

"I'm good," Scott said. He coughed under the burn of the whiskey. "Thanks, this is really amazing."

"Hey, I wanted to make it special for my substitute girlfriend." Stiles winked at him.

Scott frowned. "Why do I have to be the girl?"

"Because this was my idea, not yours. Plus you have longer hair." Stiles grinned, punched him playfully in the arm. "The girl never does the inviting, that's the guy's job."

Scott shook his head, took another gulp of whiskey. It really was going to be a weird night. He glanced at Stiles, watched his friend bite into a piece of pizza. Stiles eyes went wide, he fanned at his mouth.

"S'hot," Stiles mumbled through a mouthful of pizza.

Scott laughed. Stiles was nothing if not classy. He didn't care though; he and Stiles always had fun together. He wondered if Stiles would like the gifts he'd gotten.

"Thanks," Scott said. "This is pretty cool."

Stiles winked at him. "Just save room for dessert. I made something special."

Scott blew on a piece of pizza, took a bite after it had cooled down slightly. It was awesome; he couldn't wait to see what Stiles had made for dessert.


	3. Puppy Love

Scott's head buzzed. His lips twitched into a goofy smile as Stiles dropped a huge slice of cheesecake onto the coffee table. Scott licked his lips. Several large ruby red strawberries decorated the little piece of heaven. He took another sip of his whiskey and soda.

"Does cheesecake go with whiskey?" Scott wasn't sure he really cared what the answer was. He set the glass down on the table, caught it before it tipped over. He snatched up the cheesecake, almost losing the fork from the plate in the process.

"That's the great thing about whiskey," Stiles said. "After enough whiskey, everything goes with it."

Scott grinned at his friend. Stiles was like a sage sometimes, or at the very least a drunken scholar. Scott moaned around a fork full of cheesecake. It was heaven. Sugary, creamy, cakey heaven.

"Is cheesecake cake or pie?" Scott asked. On the surface, it seemed like it should be cake, it was called cheesecake after all, but it had a pie quality to it in his mind.

"It's not called cheesepie, which incidentally sounds horrifically disgusting." Stiles moaned far louder around the fork in his mouth than Scott had.

"What's the difference between cake and pie?" He regretted asking the question as soon as he got another piece of the dessert into his mouth along with one of the strawberries. He wished his mouth was bigger.

"Smarter men than me have tried to answer that, my friend. There are mysteries out there too big for guys like us." Stiles nodded sagely, shoveled another fork full of cheesecake into his mouth.

Stiles definitely had Scott beaten in the ability to put things in his mouth. Scott chuckled when Stiles's eyes darted back and forth between the alcohol on the table and the dessert in his hands. Tough decision for anyone to make, Scott had already decided to finish eating before drinking, but he could empathize with his friend's dilemma.

It didn't take the two of them long to eat the whole cheesecake. Scott wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, completely disregarded the napkin still tucked into his collar. He figured if he spilled alcohol on himself it'd come in handy.

Stiles slurped down the rest of his drink. "Ready for more?" He stood up, swayed like a newborn calf for a moment.

Scott shook his head no. "Yes." He tried not to analyze his mixed reaction. Stiles didn't even seem to notice it. Scott handed him the glass after downing what remained inside. He wondered how much they'd had.

"Be right back, honey." Stiles grinned.

Scott groaned, slumped back against the couch. Stiles stepped on his foot trying to get over him towards the kitchen. Scott put his hands up, closed his eyes. He opened one after a few seconds passed. Stiles's body didn't come crashing down on him. Scott glanced around, Stiles was nowhere to be seen. He chuckled, Stiles was like a whiskey ninja.

The red gift bag caught his attention. He struggled to get to his feet, used the coffee table to steady himself. He snatched the bag, dropped back onto the couch. It was still warm from either his or Stiles's body. He didn't care, it was nice.

"Stiles!" Scott winced at the volume. The whiskey had stolen his inside voice. "Come back, I want to give you gifts!"

Scott blinked when Stiles kicked his shoe. How had he gotten back so fast? He really was a ninja. It was crazy. Stiles stepped over him without abusing his foot again. Scott took the glass Stiles offered him, handed the bag over.

"Presents!" Stiles's eyes got wide as he took the bag. "I love presents."

Scott rolled his eyes when Stiles shook the bag near his ear. His friend set the glass of whiskey he was holding down. He yanked out the white tissue paper Scott had buried the presents with.

Stiles laughed, he had a silly grin on his face as he pulled out a small stuffed puppy. It was black, had a red collar around its neck with a heart on it. "This is awesome," Stiles said. "It has the same color hair as you.

"Like that's hard, you have the same color hair as me too." Scott nudged Stiles's shoe with his foot. "Squeeze its right paw."

Stiles did as he was told; the stuffed animal emitted a soft yipping noise. It sounded like an excited puppy. Scott laughed as Stiles's dignity evaporated. His friend laughed, kept pressing the puppy's paw over and over.

"This is awesome man!" Stiles said. He glanced back into the bag, grinned when he realized there was something else inside. He reached in, pulled out a red envelope. "You got me a card?"

Scott shrugged. "You got me a card."

"You're adorable!" Stiles set about opening the envelope.

Scott huffed. It only made sense for him to get Stiles a card. He took a long drink from the glass Stiles had brought him; it was even stronger than the last couple. He watched Stiles out of the corner of his eyes, groaned when Stiles licked his lips and cleared his throat.

"To my best friend," Stiles said. "I just wanted to say thanks for whatever it is you planned for us tonight. Even without a girlfriend, as long as I have you, it's like I'm never really alone." Stiles made an over exaggerated showing of wiping at his eyes, winked at him.

Scott sighed. "I'm just saying. It's cool that you went out of your way to do all this stuff."

Stiles nodded. "No problem, man. I didn't want to be alone on V-day any more than you did."

They sat in silence for a few moments. They both finished off their drinks. Scott glanced at the digital display on the television. It wasn't really late yet.

"So what now?" Scott asked.

"Dunno…" Stiles sank back into the couch, stretched out his legs under the coffee table. "We could watch something."

Scott noticed the remote sitting on top of the entertainment stand. He pointed towards it.

"Not it," they said at the same time.

They both moved to stand, slammed into each other. Stiles teetered backwards; Scott caught hold of his shirt. Stiles arms flailed for a second, he stumbled forward as Scott pulled him to make sure he wasn't going to fall. They clung to each other for a few seconds.

"That could have sucked," Stiles said. His face was flushed.

Scott nodded. "I think I need to lie down, my head is spinning." He slumped forward.

Stiles kept him from falling, let out a soft grunt. "Dude, how are you so small and so heavy at the same time. It's scientifically impossible."

Scott scoffed. "Whatever, dude. You just need to work out more." He tried to get his feet under control. They were being tricky.

"If I did that, then not only would I be smarter, I'd have the better body too. Then what would you be left with?" Stiles chuckled.

Scott looked up into Stiles's face. That didn't make any sense. Stiles was being weird again. "You think I have a good body?" He got his feet figured out, stood up straight. He pulled up his shirt, looked down at his stomach to check to see what Stiles was talking about. The napkin came from of his shirt, fluttered to the ground.

"Are you kidding me?" Stiles asked. He reached out, ran his knuckles over Scott's abdomen. "I could do my laundry on that."

Scott felt heat rising in his face. He tried to take a step back, but Stiles was standing on one of his shoelaces. His foot didn't do what it was supposed to. He reached out, caught the front of his friend's shirt again. Stiles fell forward with a surprised yelp.

Breath rushed out of Scott's lungs when he hit the ground. Stiles landed on top of him a second later. He gasped for breath. Stiles braced his hands on the floor, lifted his body up so he wasn't crushing Scott under his weight.

"Ouch," Scott gasped. "That sucked." He tried to ignore the not unpleasant scent of whiskey and strawberries on Stiles's breath. He hadn't thought the two would have gone together, but somehow it did.

Stiles laughed. "You okay, honey?" Stiles brushed Scott's hair away from his forehead. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

Scott chuckled, slapped Stiles's hand away from his face. "Really? You're lying on top of me and still calling me honey?"

Stiles's face got red really fast. He tried to roll to the side, but his shoulder hit the coffee table. He tried to struggle up to his knees. Scott grunted when Stiles's thigh pressed into his groin, bit his lip to keep from making any noise at the sudden contact.

"S-sorry," Stiles said. He managed to climb off Scott, took a deep breath as he walked a few steps away. "I didn't mean to get all up in your business."

Scott sat up, used the couch to pull himself to his feet. "No big deal." It sort of was a big deal. It was getting bigger the more he thought about it. He turned away from Stiles, didn't want him to notice how embarrassed he was. He sighed; the body of a teenage boy was an easy thing to confuse, especially when you applied alcohol and pressure to it.

"I think I should go home," Scott said. He grabbed his backpack from the floor, tried to hide his body's reaction by holding it nonchalantly in front of his groin.

Stiles licked his lips, raised an eyebrow at the backpack. "No way man, I'm not letting you drink and drive."

Scott sighed. "I don't even have a car." He started to walk around towards the door.

Stiles got in his way, leaned back against the door. "No way, dude. I'm not letting you drink and pedal either. Just crash here, not out there on the road. Your mom would beat me to death if I let you get hurt tonight."

Scott ducked his head, tightened his grip on the backpack. The whole night had just become a little more awkward than he had anticipated. "Okay," he said. "What do we do now?"

Stiles walked forward, wrapped an arm around Scott's shoulder. "Now, my friend, we head up to my room and play some video games. I just need to get the other guests."

"The other guests?" Scott asked. He turned his head towards Stiles, caught the sweet scents on his breath again.

Stiles patted him on the back. "Yeah, Jack Daniels and however much Coca Cola we have left. Head upstairs, I'll be there in a minute."

Scott swallowed, his mouth felt really dry. He'd been drunk in Stiles's room a number of times. No big deal. He took a deep breath, headed up the stairs still clutching his backpack in front of him.


	4. Making a Mess

Scott dropped his backpack onto Stiles's computer chair. He was still hard. His body was being stupid. The alcohol wasn't enough of an excuse. He didn't know how he was going to sit on the floor and play video games like nothing was wrong. He reached through the top of his pants, adjusted himself into a better position. He couldn't resist the urge to give himself a tiny squeeze to cut some of the tension he was feeling.

He pulled his hand out of his pants, shook his head and arms. He needed to think about something else. It wasn't supposed to be like this, the night wasn't supposed to have turned out the way it had. Something had gone wrong. He wasn't sure how or when, but at some point things had changed in a way he wasn't ready for.

He sat down on the floor and leaned back against Stiles's bed. He drew his knees up to his chest. He wished he wasn't quite so drunk. He glanced out the window. It was dark outside; stars were visible in the cloudless sky. He focused on one of them, closed his eyes and made a wish. He wanted things to go back to normal. Normal was safe, normal wasn't quite so scary. He dropped his head back against the mattress.

"Not tired yet are you, honey?" Stiles clutched two cups to his chest with one arm. He had a bowl of popcorn in his other hand. The smell of salt and butter drifted through the room.

Scott hadn't even heard him come in. Stiles offered him the bowl. Scott let his legs relax, stretched them out. He set the bowl of popcorn in his lap, tried not to think about how worked up he was.

Stiles dropped onto the floor next to him, took a drink from one of the red plastic cups and handed the other to Scott. He bumped their shoulders together. Stiles acted like everything was normal, like he hadn't just been laying on top of Scott and brushing fingers though his hair. Stiles's fingers were softer than Scott had ever realized.

"Popcorn?" Scott asked. He just wanted to fill up the silence, didn't know what else to say. He took a drink from the plastic cup. He could barely taste the whiskey.

"What?" Stiles grinned. He reached into the bowl and snatched a handful of popcorn. He shoved it into his mouth and winked.

Scott tried to focus on his friend's face, didn't want to think about the pressure of the bowl pressing down on his groin. He wanted to set it on the floor, but Stiles hadn't left any space between them. They were practically thigh to thigh. Scott needed the bowl to hide his body's silly reaction. He started trying to do math in his head, tried to will his erection to settle down. It was just Stiles, just Stiles and Stiles's room; he'd been there a hundred times before. There was nothing special going on. He wanted his penis to go back to sleep. Two plus two equals four.

He took another drink. Stiles must have dialed back the amount of alcohol he'd been using. Either that or Scott was past the point where it mattered anymore. In movies and on television they always talked about how guys couldn't perform when they were drunk, that they couldn't get it up. Apparently Scott's dick was made of tougher stuff.

They sat in silence. No one brought up the video games. Stiles occasionally snagged another handful of popcorn. The pressure of the bowl on his groin reminded Scott of how badly he needed to get himself under control. He wasn't sure he wanted Stiles digging around in his lap, but he also wanted the protection of the bowl to keep Stiles from realizing his dilemma.

He glanced back out the window, frowned at the star that hadn't granted him his wish. He took another sip of alcohol. Maybe he wasn't drunk enough to turn his dick off. He turned his sip into a few gulps, winced at the burn. The alcohol was there, it just hadn't been mixed very well.

"So," Scott said after taking a deep breath. "What now?"

Stiles dug into popcorn again. "What do you want to do?"

Scott shifted his weight, crossed his legs in front of him. He hoped the bowl would be propped high enough on his thighs that Stiles's digging wouldn't reach his crotch. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The temperature wasn't going down. Guys needed an off switch.

"Can we open the window?" Scott tried to keep his voice even, gulped down more of his drink. He glanced over at Stiles. His friend was looking at his throat. He wondered if he had spilled something on himself. "What?"

Stiles took a quick drink, coughed into his fist. "Nothing…" Stiles scrambled to his feet. "I'll get it." He wrestled with the window, finally managed to get it open. He took a deep breath of the air that rushed into the room.

Scott could feel the breeze from the floor by the bed. It was a welcome relief. He closed his eyes. He imagined Stiles could see steam rising from his skin. His friend dropped back down onto the floor next to him. Scott grunted when Stiles got another handful of popcorn out of the bowl.

"You okay man?" Stiles bumped their shoulders together. "You don't look so good."

Scott scrambled for something to say. There was no way he was going to tell his friend that he was accidently grinding a bowl of popcorn into his junk. "I-I-I think I hurt my back when I fell. No big deal, just a little sore."

He glanced over at Stiles. His friend's cheeks were puffed out with popcorn. He looked like a chipmunk with acorns in its mouth. He thought that was chipmunks, maybe it was squirrels. He tried to think about cute animals. It didn't help.

Stiles swallowed the food in his mouth. He coughed, took another drink. "Sorry, I can be sort of clumsy sometimes."

Scott tried to ignore Stiles licking butter from his fingers. He was going insane. His dick had short circuited the rest of his brain. He kept focusing on the wrong things. They needed to do something other than sit on the floor. Scott was going to go crazy if they didn't do something. He needed to get up, walk around a little. He grabbed the bowl of popcorn, moved it aside and brought the plastic cup to his mouth to finish the rest of the alcohol in his glass.

Stiles reached for the popcorn right when Scott moved the bowl out of the way. Stiles's hand brushed up against his groin while he was in the middle of drinking. It set Scott's nerves on fire. The alcohol went down the wrong pipe. Scott felt like his lungs were burning. He dropped the popcorn; it spilled across the floor. He dropped his cup too, the little bit of alcohol left spilled down his chest and stomach, soaked into his shirt.

"Oh god," Stiles gasped. Scott was choking, but he'd also just touched Scott's dick. He was holding the hand that had brushed Scott's erection to his chest like he'd been burned.

Stiles started to pound him on the back. Scott waved him away, took a few ragged breaths. Stiles crawled across the floor, grabbed Scott's backpack. He rummaged through it until he found Scott's inhaler.

"Do you need this? Is this going to help? Are you supposed to use your inhaler while choking?" Stiles hovered, tried to press the inhaler into Scott's hands. "Don't die on me, buddy. Not on Valentine's Day. You'll scar me for life."

Scott started to laugh, he shook his head. He couldn't get enough air. He wasn't prepared to go from choking to laughing so quickly. Scott rolled over onto his knees, accidentally crushed popcorn into the carpet. Ice spilled off his body and fell to the floor. He took a deep breath with the help of his inhaler.

Stiles knelt behind him, rubbed his back soothingly. Scott dropped his head onto the bed, took a few more deep breaths. Stiles didn't move away, he leaned over Scott's back and squeezed his shoulders.

"You okay?" Stiles squeaked. He cleared his throat. "I mean are you alright?"

Scott groaned into the bed. "Yeah," he said. His voice was muffled by the blankets. Stiles had touched his hard dick. Their friendship was probably about to end. His neck felt hot, he was pretty sure he was as red as fire engine.

"You should take your shirt and pants off," Stiles said. He was close enough that Scott could feel his breath on the back of his neck. They swallowed at the same time.

"W-what?" Scott stammered. His dick throbbed. It seemed confused, didn't know why it had suddenly gotten some action and then been abandoned. Scott shivered when Stiles's fingers curled under the back of his shirt.

"You're wet now," Stiles said. He tugged up Scott's shirt, exposed his back. "You can wear some of my stuff. I'll wash what you've got on."

Scott leaned back, sat on his thighs. He didn't really know what was going on. Stiles's thought process seemed reasonable. He lifted his arms, let Stiles finish pulling his shirt off. His friend was still so close behind him, hadn't moved away since he'd helped him not choke to death.

Stiles traced his fingers down Scott's back. It made him shiver. He fisted his hands in the blankets on Stiles's bed. Stiles brushed his fingers along Scott's ribs, brought them to rest on Scott's hips.

"We n-need to get these off too." Stiles's breath was hot against the back of Scott's neck. He reached around, tucked his thumbs under the waistband of Scott's jeans to unbutton them. Stiles scooted closer, the cotton of his shirt brushed against Scott's naked back. "Cool?"

Scott nodded. He wasn't sure what to say. Stiles's hands trembled against his stomach. The tip of Scott's erection was resting against one of Stiles's thumbs. His jeans felt too tight, he was afraid he was going to burst out if Stiles didn't unzip them.

"P-please," Scott whispered. He didn't know exactly what he was asking for. They were in new territory. They'd seen each other naked many times through the course of their friendship. Neither one of them had ever undressed the other one.

"Is this okay?" Stiles asked. He thumbed the tip of Scott's dick through the fabric of his boxers.

Scott nodded. He didn't trust his voice. Stiles dipped his fingers into Scott's unbuttoned his jeans, slipped his fingers under the waistband of Scott's boxers. Cool fingers brushed against his dick. Scott grunted, rocked his hips a little into the curious touch. He wasn't sure if Stiles was teasing him or just being nervous. His friend's other hand gripped the zipper, pulled it down. Scott took a deep breath at the extra space.

Scott pressed his back into Stiles. He didn't know if that was too far, but he couldn't help himself. Stiles fingers pushed his cock down until it slipped through the opening in his boxers. Scott moaned. The sudden feeling of freedom was too good. Stiles's nails dragged around the base of his cock. Scott bit his lips.

He didn't know what to do; he tightened his grip on Stiles's blankets. His friend explored further, fingers brushing down to feel his balls. Stiles was breathing heavily, the movement of his chest rocked Scott forward and backwards lightly. Stiles's fingers fondling his balls felt amazing. His dick bobbed and twitched, begged for some attention.

"S-S-Stiles," Scott stammered.

He felt Stiles nod against his shoulder. Arms pulled Scott further back between Stiles's legs. He glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eyes. Stiles leaned forward, rested his chin on Scott's shoulder. He looked down at Scott's dick, licked his lips.

Scott bit his lower lip when Stiles's other hand gripped him, twisted around his aching cock. Scott reached back, his fingers digging into Stiles's thighs as his friend began to jerk him off. Stiles continued to play with his balls, tugged and squeezed with just the right amount of pressure.

Some part of Scott knew it wasn't fair that Stiles was giving him a handjob and getting nothing in return. He didn't know what to do about it though, he could barely think. He rocked forward into Stiles's grip.

Soft lips brushed over Scott's shoulder. He tilted his head to the side as Stiles nosed against his neck. A curious tongue licked against him, tentative teeth latched onto his skin. Scott dug his nails harder into Stiles's thighs, panted as Stiles continued to work him.

"Is this okay?" Stiles whispered against Scott's neck. His breath was wet and hot.

"Y-yeah. S'okay…" Scott panted out.

Stiles kept him leaning over; his hips weren't touching Scott's at all, just his chest against Scott's back. He quickened his pace, tugged more frantically. He tightened his grip, thumbed over the head of Scott's dick to spread some of the fluid leaking out. He twisted his hand on the way up, palmed over the sensitive head before dropping back down to the base.

Scott bit his lower lip, tried to keep quiet. He was too embarrassed to tell Stiles how close he was. How the grip he was using was making his stomach flutter. It wasn't the type of thing you could just say to your friend as he jerked you off. He couldn't tell Stiles how good he made him feel. It was too awkward. Stiles had to know, had to feel how hard he was.

Scott grunted, it was too much. He couldn't hold on any longer. White hot pleasure spiked behind his eyes. He couldn't breathe; Stiles's grip on his dick was too good, the hand on his balls squeezed with just the right amount of pressure. He felt his balls drawing up. Stiles must have been able to feel the shift too because he started to pump him furiously. Teeth closed on Scott's shoulder, Stiles's mouth sucked at the sensitive skin. Scott was probably going to have a mark; he didn't care at the moment. He just needed a little bit more, needed to drop over the edge.

He leaned his head back on Stiles's shoulder, rocked his hips forward, pushing his dick through Stiles's tight grip. He gasped; his whole body felt like it was vibrating as he came. His dick pulsed in Stiles's grip, fluid sprayed on the carpet, dripped down Stiles's knuckles. The friction became slick and hot. Scott gritted his teeth against the sensation. He leaned forward, head collapsing onto the bed as Stiles continued to work him. Stiles's hand caressed and explored his balls as they drained. Scott's body spasmed when Stiles fisted over the sticky head of his cock.

"Stay here a sec," Stiles whispered. "I'll go get a towel and some clothes for you to wear."

Scott panted into the blankets. His dick twitched as Stiles withdrew his hands. A gentle kiss was pressed against his shoulder. He listened to Stiles's footsteps retreating from the room; he was headed down the hall to the bathroom. Scott's head was buzzing, he had no idea what he was going to do when Stiles got back, had no idea what he was going to say.


	5. Words are Hard

Scott couldn't bring himself to lift his face off Stiles's bed. He took a deep breath, tried to ignore how much Stiles's bed smelled like him. What were they doing? They were friends. He thought they were still friends. Stiles hadn't flipped out. Scott turned his face towards the door. Stiles also hadn't come back. He could be flipping out, Scott had no idea.

He sat back on his thighs, looked down at his lap. His pants were a mess. He had to embrace the inevitable. He pulled himself to his feet, slid his jeans off. The floor of Stiles's room was a mess. Scott grimaced at the thought. He'd spilled more than popcorn and whiskey on the carpet. He closed his eyes, tried not to think about it.

A cold breeze brushed against his back. He shivered. No one had closed the window. Scott walked over, placed his hands on the glass. Instead of shutting it he leaned his forehead against it, let his eyes close. Valentine's Day had turned out a lot differently than he'd imagined.

"Hey, here you go." Stiles's voice was a little higher pitched than normal. "I figured you'd want this. Then again maybe you like standing by my bedroom window with your junk hanging out."

Scott's face got hot. He turned away from the window. Stiles stood in the doorway of the room. He extended the towel he was holding. Scott stared at him. He didn't know what to say. No one had ever told him how to have a conversation with his best friend after a shared intimate experience. He must have been absent whenever they'd covered that in school.

Stiles looked up at the ceiling. He wasn't saying anything either. For some reason that made everything worse. Stiles was always talking. If he didn't know what to say about the situation it probably meant there weren't words for it. Stiles took a single step forward, glanced down at Scott's clothes on the floor by his bed. Stiles closed his eyes, tossed the towel onto his bed.

"My boxers or whatever are in the top drawer," Stiles said. He turned and walked out of the room.

Scott didn't need Stiles to tell him what drawers he kept his clothes in. He didn't recall if they'd ever talked about it before, but he'd been around Stiles so much that something simple like which drawers his clothes were in wasn't a mystery.

Scott sighed. He slid his boxers off, wiped himself off with the towel. Stiles's dresser was on the other side of the room. It felt like the longest walk of his life. He was naked in Stiles's room, had just finished cleaning himself up after having gotten off for the first time with another person. That should have trumped a naked walk across a room. It didn't.

He brushed his fingers along Stiles's dresser. It was smooth and cold. He wrapped his fingers around the knobs of the top drawer. The metal wasn't as smooth as the wood, but it was colder. He pulled the drawer open.

Stiles's boxers were stuffed haphazardly inside. Scott grinned. He'd never really looked in Stiles's drawers, especially _at_ his drawers. Scott couldn't keep himself from smiling. It would have been odd if they'd been folded neatly inside. He reached out, grabbed the first pair on the top of the pile.

He froze when his fingers touched the soft cotton. The ones on top were probably the ones Stiles wore the most. Scott picked up the pair he was touching. They were blue. Scott grinned. They were Stiles's superman boxers. He always wore them on game days. Scott had seen them so many times in the locker room. They'd never talked about it, but Scott figured Stiles wanted to be ready if he was ever called to action.

It wouldn't have been right to wear those. He dropped them back inside. He grabbed another pair at random. They were grey. Grey was simple. That would work. He pulled them out, noticed there was a yellow diamond shaped warning sign on the front, just to the right of the button. It said, _'Warning: Objects in these boxers are larger than they appear.'_

Scott laughed. He wondered if Stiles had any normal underwear. There was no way he was wearing something with that suggestive of a message on them. He closed his eyes, dug through the pile and grabbed a new pair at random. It was so wrong that he was naked going through Stiles's underwear drawer. He was never going to think of Valentine's Day the same way ever again.

He stepped into the boxers without opening his eyes, almost lost his balance. He opened his eyes, looked down at his hips. The underwear he'd put on were white and covered with green four-leaf clovers. Scott remembered seeing them before in the locker room too. He'd laughed thinking that Stiles was trying a little too hard to get lucky by wearing them.

Scott shook his head. He knew too much about Stiles's underwear. He couldn't recall what any of the other team members wore. It was probably weird that he remembered Stiles's. He glanced back at the door. Stiles had never come back. Scott was starting to get worried.

He pushed the top drawer closed. The second drawer had t-shirts in it. He'd seen Stiles go through it countless times. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to grab a shirt or not. He hated that everything had become so awkward. A day ago he wouldn't have hesitated to grab a shirt out of Stiles's dresser if he'd spilled something on himself. A day ago Stiles had never jerked him off. Whether he wanted it or not, things were different.

Scott gave up on Stiles ever coming back. He took a deep breath. He'd just go talk to him. No big deal, it wouldn't be that bad. He took a few steps toward the door. He felt stupid that he still had his socks on. If he'd been getting ready for bed he wouldn't have socks on. If he'd been getting ready for bed he wouldn't think twice about just wearing underwear. He pulled his socks off, tossed them on top of the rest of his clothes.

He squared his shoulders, raised his chin. He'd just go find Stiles. They'd talk about what happened. Everything would be fine after that. He stuck his head out into the hallway. The bathroom door was cracked open. The light was on. Stiles was probably still inside. If he didn't want to be disturbed the door would be closed. He was probably just splashing water on his face or something.

Scott was three steps away from the door before his resolve started to waver. He started to drag his feet. He took two more steps. All he had to do was open the door, and then have the most awkward conversation of his life. No big deal. It was Stiles. What could possibly go wrong?

He leaned back against the wall, ran a hand through his unruly hair. He held his breath and listened. The shower turned on. Stiles must have wanted to get cleaned up. Scott could have used a shower. He'd gotten all sweaty when they were in Stiles's room.

He banged his head lightly against the wall he was leaning against. It had been hot in Stiles's room; he hadn't meant to think about getting sweaty from having Stiles's hand wrapped around his dick. He tried to ignore the feelings the memory started stirring in his groin. He did not need to go back to being hard.

He heard the curtain rings shift. Stiles had probably just gotten in the shower. It might be easier to have the conversation with the curtain between them. It wasn't like they'd never talked to each other in the showers before. Stiles had walked in on him several times in the locker room. Stiles didn't really have any concept of privacy.

It seemed like the best plan. He'd just walk in. He'd sit on the counter and talk to Stiles while he was getting cleaned up. No big deal, situation normal. He squared his shoulders again, turned and pushed the door open. "Stiles I—"

"Holy shit, Scott!" Stiles yelped. He wasn't in the shower. He was standing in front of it. He had his hand inside checking the water temperature.

Scott's eyes dipped down. Stiles was naked. Stiles was naked and hard. The situation was not normal. It had become a big deal. He closed his eyes, covered his face with his palm. He'd been hoping to knock the awkwardness down a few pegs. He felt like it was skyrocketing instead.

Scott opened one eye, peered between his fingers. Stiles's mouth fell open in shock. He grabbed the shower curtain, held it up in front of his hips. Stiles's ears were red, his neck and chest were flushed too. Scott didn't know so much of his skin could change colors like that.

"Sorry…" Scott didn't know what else to say. He didn't know why he wasn't turning around and walking out of the bathroom. He didn't know why he was still peering through his fingers at Stiles. There were a lot of things he knew about Stiles. He hadn't expected to add what Stiles's hard dick looked like to the list. "I thought we should talk." Scott winced, that hadn't been what he'd meant to say. Stiles was normally the one who said inappropriate things at the most inappropriate times.

"Is now really the best time?" Stiles asked. "I'm sort of naked."

Scott's eyes dipped back to Stiles's crotch on reflex. The curtain made it impossible for Scott to tell if Stiles was still hard or not. The fact that he was even thinking about it was probably the whiskey's fault.

"And hard?" Scott closed his eyes. It was the alcohol. It was definitely the alcohol. A plan had come to him, a ridiculous plan. He opened his eyes. Stiles licked his lips nervously. Scott walked over to him. He thought if he got Stiles off they'd be even and things wouldn't be so awkward. It would be like a trade. It'd be fair. "I-I-I can help if you are."


	6. Close the Distance

The tiles on the bathroom floor were cold against the soles of Scott's bare feet. The distance between the door and where Stiles leaned against the far wall was short, but every step Scott took seemed to take forever. When his left foot came down on the soft carpet in front of the bathtub he froze in place, one foot on the cold tile, one foot on the soothing rug, half the space between them gone.

"H-help?" Stiles practically yelped the word.

"Yeah. Help." Scott kept his eyes on Stiles's feet. His friend looked like he was trying to grip the floor with his toes. "It'll be fair, right?"

"Fair? Why does it sound like you're proposing trading baseball cards and not trading… well not trading the thing you're actually proposing we trade? I'm not sur—"

"Stiles."

Now wasn't really the time to launch into an extended comparison between handjobs and cards neither of them even had. Scott's foot left the rug and came down one step closer to his best friend. He brought his eyes up to look at Stiles's face, but the movement was arrested at the flush of pink that suffused Stiles's chest and neck.

"Dude, my eyes are up here." The white shower curtain slid between his eyes and Stiles's torso. His friend had it up to his neck, face and ears even redder than his chest had been. "Stop staring. You've seen me naked like a million times."

Scott nodded, eyes focused on Stiles's lower lip. It was a safe spot to watch, wouldn't make him quite as vulnerable as he would have been staring into Stiles's eyes. He wasn't ready for that. Stiles was right, they'd seen each other naked a million times, but things were different now. They didn't have a time machine, couldn't go back to the simpler moments before Stiles had ever had his hand on Scott's groin. All they could do was move forward. Scott took the final step.

Stiles couldn't back up any further, but he tried. He went up on the tips of his toes as if the fraction of distance he gained from raising his heels off the floor meant anything in the grand scheme of things. Scott kept his eyes on Stiles's lip, brought one hand up and set it against the wall next to his friend's head, used the other to grip the shower curtain Stiles was using as a shield. His knuckles brushed against Stiles's Adam's apple when he tucked his fingers behind the damp curtain. Stiles swallowed at the touch.

Scott wanted to ask if what he was doing was okay, but he wasn't bold like Stiles, wasn't as confident. Stiles could do or say anything without hesitation. Scott didn't live like that, he couldn't live like that. It took him longer to get to the same conclusions that other people snapped to. Sometimes he thought he was just stupider than everyone else, but that wasn't it, he just had more fear and less self-assurance.

He felt Stiles's breath against his lips, they were so close the lingering scent of whiskey and cheesecake was back. Moisture slipped down Scott's temple and for the first time he realized with the curtain pulled so far away from the tub the water was ricocheting off the shower walls and coating him in fine beads that rolled down his skin. Stiles's white boxers, the ones he'd put on without looking at were beginning to stick to his left thigh. He dropped his eyes from Stiles's mouth to look down at the fabric; he could see his own tan skin through the cotton plastered to his leg.

"We should turn the shower off."

Scott hadn't meant to say those words. He'd wanted to say that maybe they should just get in, that way whatever mess they were about to make would be easier to clean than the one they'd left in Stiles's room, but it's not what came out. He turned his head, looked over his shoulder at the nozzle high up on the wall. It looked like it'd be easier inside the shower, surrounded by the white curtain and white tile walls. There wouldn't be a mirror to his right that he'd be able to see himself in.

It wasn't that he was afraid of what he was doing, it was just that he knew if he saw his reflection he'd see himself the way Stiles saw him. Like the gravity of the earth, thoughts of the mirror pulled at Scott. He started to turn his head to look despite his reservations, but Stiles's hand on his chin stopped the movement.

"We could just get in. It'd be cleaner. Warmer too…"

Scott let out a sigh of relief. Stiles always knew what he was thinking. They weren't always on the same page, Stiles read so much faster than him. He liked to jump to the end to see what was going to happen, but he always waited for Scott, refused to leave him too far behind. Even with the course of action so clearly laid out Scott was having trouble following it. The curtain separating them dropped away. Warm hands gripped Scott's shoulders, one pushed and the other pulled to get him to turn around.

Scott stepped over the edge of the tub, he was careful in putting his foot down on the inside. Hot water hit him in the face; he closed his eyes and stepped into the spray. The tub behind him creaked as Stiles got in behind him. The rings sliding on the metal shower rod rang in Scott's ears as Stiles drew the curtain between them and the rest of the world.

Steam curled around them. Scott stepped to the side, his back against the cold tile wall. He slid towards the back and gestured for Stiles to step into the spray. The area was heating up fast, but he imagined he could hear Stiles's teeth chattering behind him. Scott opened his eyes in time to see Stiles lick his lips nervously before sliding around to get under the water. Stiles placed his hands on the wall under the shower nozzle, leaned forward to let the heated spray roll down his back.

"Can I—"

"Yeah, that'd be awesome. If I can—"

"Yeah..."

The rapid fire exchange left Scott slightly unsure what they'd agreed to do. They both laughed at the same time, the sound echoed around the small space they shared. Scott intended to go first, wasn't sure he was ready to let Stiles do whatever it was he wanted to do. The bar of soap nearly slipped out of his hand when he picked it up. A thousand jokes about dropping soap raced through his mind, but he didn't voice any of them.

He held the bar out under the water that cascaded off Stiles's right shoulder, and then twisted it around in his hands a few times to work up a lather. It didn't seem right to just dive right in to even up the score between them. Scott wanted to take things at his own pace, and this seemed like a small step. He reached out and pressed the bar between Stiles's shoulder blades with one hand; put the other on Stiles's collarbone. Stiles's head fell forward when Scott thumbed against his spine, let out a soft noise that was somewhere between a moan and a grunt.

Scott swallowed, his throat felt dry despite the dampness in the air. He kept a firm hold on Stiles's collar as he slid the bar along his friend's spine. Stiles pushed back into the touch, shifted his weight between his feet. Scott never knew how smooth his friend's skin was. He rolled the bar in his hand against Stiles's body as he stroked over the pale expanse of his back. Stiles trembled under the exploratory touches. Scott hoped it was a good thing, he moved his thumb in tiny circles at the base of Stiles's neck

"S'good," Stiles mumbled, voice thick with whatever it was he was feeling under Scott's touch.

Scott didn't know if he was supposed to say thanks, or something else. Responses tumbled into his mind, but he abandoned them all without voicing them. He'd just let Stiles talk, maybe that would be enough. He let go of Stiles's neck, lathered both of his hands with the soap and set it on the tray in the wall. He nearly slipped as he took a step closer; he caught Stiles's hips to steady his balance.

"You okay?"

Scott nodded even though he knew Stiles couldn't see him. He thumbed over Stiles's hips before sweeping his hands up Stiles's sides. His friend shuddered under the touch. Scott grinned; the urge to tickle his friend was almost overwhelming. Something kept him from doing it though, touching another person like this was intimate in a way he hadn't been expecting. He didn't want to spoil it. There were things a person did alone every day, normal things they never thought about, but someone else doing it changed the context in so many different ways. Stiles trusted him, let him explore and do things that he normally did himself.

Scott slid his fingers up under Stiles's arms, curled his soapy hands in the hair there. Stiles let out a tiny gasp. Scott was mesmerized by the way Stiles's fingers inched up the shower wall, lifting his arms to let him have better access. Scott took another step forward, but kept his hardening dick from making contact with Stiles's body. He wondered if Stiles was hard too, the way his shoulders rose up and fell made it seem like he was breathing hard, but Scott couldn't hear it over the sound of the water pounding on Stiles's skin.

He slipped his hands out from Stiles's armpits, brought one back to brush his knuckles down Stiles's spine and let the other slip forward and around to Stiles's chest. He raked his thumb over a nipple. Such a little thing, but his friend went up on the tips of his toes, a wet groan loud enough to be heard over the spray of water bounced around the shower.

"Scott…"

He still didn't have any words he could share with his friend, instead he caught Stiles's nipple between his finger and thumb, investigated the tip of it by running the pad of his index finger over it. Stiles's hands against the shower wall curled into fists, his body rocked in place. Nipples seemed to be one of Stiles's buttons; Scott had never thought about his own very much, he wondered if he'd react the same way. He used his free hand to twist one of his lightly as he increased the pressure on Stiles's.

"Nngghh." Stiles didn't seem to have the words to describe how it felt.

Electricity shot down Scott's spine, but he wasn't sure if it was from the sensation he was giving himself, or the knowledge that he was having such a dramatic effect on Stiles. It was an incredible feeling, to be the person responsible for those reactions, to know that you were delivering something they wanted, or maybe even needed on some level.

"Scott, please…"

Stiles's voice pulled Scott from his thoughts. He'd gotten lost, had kept toying with Stiles's body as he let his mind drift. Stiles grunted in shock when Scott gripped his shoulders and turned him around.

"What are you? Oh god I—"

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and trapped his lower lip between his teeth when Scott's hand curled around his straining cock. Scott couldn't believe how red and swollen it looked. Stiles's hips twitched, dragging the hard length of his dick through Scott's grip.

It was different than what Scott had expected, familiar and alien all at the same time. It was so much warmer and stiffer than he expected. He wondered if it was like how you couldn't really tell if you had a fever yourself. Maybe he never realized the heat of his own dick because the temperature was just another part of his body, but with Stiles's in his hand though he could tell the difference.

When Stiles had been pulling on him, he'd curled his hands around Scott's balls, must have been curious how they felt. Scott hadn't really understood, but he was barely able to think at the time. He cupped his hand under Stiles's balls, squeezed reflexively when he felt them draw up at the same time Stiles's dick twitched. Scott knew how that worked, but feeling the chain reaction in someone else was wild.

"Scott…"

His name being spoken drew Scott's attention. He looked up from Stiles's groin. His friend was against the wall, head back with the fingers of one hand digging into his scalp, his other hand clawed against the tiles of the wall. His feet slipped further apart as he opened his legs to give Scott more room to maneuver.

The angle he was working from made Scott feel slightly awkward, his grip different than he used on himself. It'd probably been easier for Stiles who'd been behind him, the position exactly the same as he'd use on himself. The difference though seemed to have an effect on Stiles, his hips rocked wildly. For all Scott knew this was the same reaction Stiles had to his own hands. He wanted it to be better than that, wanted to make it as good for Stiles as it had been for him. Scott tightened his grip, tugged a bit harder and twisted as he pushed back to the base of Stiles's cock.

Stiles's eyes flew open, his hands shot out to grip Scott's shoulders. He'd been pushing his hips forwards as he leaned back, but his body reversed itself, he leaned forward and pulled his hips back. He almost slammed their heads together, but at the last second he slowed his momentum and rested his forehead against Scott's instead.

"Too much?"

They were the first words out of Scott's mouth, and Stiles didn't seem to be able to respond verbally. He shook his head back and forth, their noses bumped against each other with the movement. It was all the encouragement Scott needed. He kept going. Fast strokes that made Stiles pant, mouth falling open. They were as close to kissing as two people could get without actually touching their lips together. Scott didn't know why, but he wanted to close that tiny bit of distance. He tilted his head slightly to the right.

Stiles moaned when Scott reversed his grip so that the palm of his hand was sliding against the top of his dick instead of running along the thick vein on the bottom. Stiles's chin tilted up, and before Scott knew what was happening they were kissing, lips slightly parted as they slid together. Stiles's nails dug into Scott's shoulder, and Scott could actually feel the pulsing of Stiles's dick in his hand as he came.

Stiles didn't have anywhere left to back up to as Scott kept twisting him, he moaned when Scott trapped his lower lip in his teeth to keep him from pulling away. Scott couldn't help himself; there was something incredibly intoxicating about feeling Stiles's body trembling from what he was doing.

"Please, Scott… nngghh" Stiles's words trailed into unintelligible whimpers. He caught Scott's hand in his own, slowed the movement but didn't stop it.

Scott eased his grip, stroked gently. He wasn't ready to let Stiles go, but he didn't want to push it to a place Stiles didn't enjoy. His friend slumped back against the wall. Scott followed him to keep their heads together. He couldn't have explained it if someone had asked him, but he just needed to be in Stiles's space for a few more moments. When he stopped everything would finish changing and there wouldn't be anything left for them to do but talk about everything that had happened, but as long as he had Stiles's lips against his they were trapped in the moment, frozen in time, completely separate from everything that had come before and everything that would happen in the future. He just wanted to stay like that for a little while, hoped that it wasn't too much to ask. Stiles's arms wrapped around Scott's neck and pulled him closer, it seemed Stiles wasn't quite ready to let go of the moment either.


	7. What Happens Next?

The combination of steam and adrenaline made it difficult for Scott to breathe. The water had lost most of its heat though, and the time he could spend in the shower with Stiles was running out. He pulled back, gently untangling Stiles's boneless arms from around his neck. Scott looked at his best friend through strands of wet hair that had fallen into his eyes. Stiles panted, still supporting his weight with the help of the shower's tiled wall.

"You okay?" Scott wasn't sure if that's what he was supposed to say, but nothing else came to mind. The thing about being in an enclosed space with someone else was that you had nowhere to hide. He looked down at the bottom of the tub, took a deep breath then raised his eyes to look at his best friend.

"No," Stiles said. He licked his lips and grinned. "I'm awesome. Getting cold, but awesome." With a sigh Stiles heaved himself away from the wall. "We should probably get out before the water turns cold enough to give us hypothermia."

Scott nodded. He turned back towards the nozzle of the shower and flipped it off. Cool hands ran up the length of his spine and into the back of his hair. The motion was so soothing he leaned forward and braced his weight with his arms against the wall.

"W-what are you doing?" Scott hated his stammer, when he was younger a lot of kids would tease him. Stiles never had, not even in jest.

"Just exploring. I kind of wanted to wash your hair, but we ran out of time." Stiles's fingers massaged the back of Scott's head then curled in the black strands plastered to Scott's scalp.

Scott pushed his head back into Stiles's hands. "You wanted to wash my hair? That's weird." He couldn't deny that he loved the sensation. Stiles's fingers were magic, pulling tension from Scott's body with the simplest of touches. It somehow made him think that everything was going to be okay, that what they'd done wasn't going to ruin their friendship.

"Really? Of all the things we've done tonight, you think _that's _weird?" Stiles scoffed and tugged lightly on Scott's hair. "I always keep my hair short, but yours is so much longer and thicker. I just wondered what it felt like."

Scott swallowed a lump forming in his throat. He straightened up, and Stiles seemed to take it as a sign that his touches were no longer welcome. Scott let out a small sigh. He turned in place, they stood looking at each other for a few moments, two sets of brown eyes regarding each other as if they weren't sure what to do next.

"Towels?" Scott reached over and pushed the shower curtain aside. Towels were the next logical step, though nothing about the night so far had followed anything resembling logic. He stepped over the edge of the tub onto the soft bathmat.

"Towels it is," Stiles said. There was something off about his voice, but Scott couldn't pick out what it was. He stepped quickly past Scott and pulled one of the towels off the rack attached to the wall. "Stay here a sec; I'll grab another one from the linen closet down the hall." He wrapped the towel around his waist, pushed the door open, and disappeared from the room.

Scott stood over the sink; let the water drip from his hair down into the basin. He was afraid to look at himself in the mirror, wasn't sure if he'd recognize the person looking back at him. His skin was pebbled with little bumps; he shifted his weight between his feet in the rapidly cooling air. He was so absorbed in thought that the towel Stiles tossed as he came back into the room hit him in the side of the head and fell to the bathroom floor.

"Ouch," Scott said on reflex. He shook his head, water sprayed from his hair like he was a dog shaking himself dry. He bent over to pick up the towel and quickly wrapped it around his waist. It was a relief to be covered up, which didn't make a lot of sense, but there was a difference between being naked with someone while you were being intimate and being naked with someone at any other time. Maybe Scott just wasn't comfortable enough in his own skin. There were guys on the lacrosse team who would hold conversations with each other bare ass naked and never seemed to think much of it.

"How do you do it?" Stiles came over and leaned on the sink next to Scott. He tilted his head to the side, tried to catch Scott's eyes.

Scott didn't have any idea what Stiles meant. He pushed wet strands of hair out of his eyes and looked everywhere but at his friend's face. "What?"

"Manage to stay in such incredible shape despite having asthma. It's total crap that you're like ten times more ripped than I am. I've got no excuse for being so totally average." Stiles leaned over and started retrieving discarded pieces of clothing.

Scott watched Stiles move about the small room. There was nothing average about him. Sure he wasn't muscled like Jackson or Danny, but he was in good shape. The truth was Scott was kind of jealous that Stiles seemed to be able to eat anything he wanted, barely try during practice, and still not gain any weight. _That_ was total crap.

"I work at it. Every day in short intervals and I keep my inhaler ready for any sort of emergency. You're lucky you don't have to put much effort into looking good, it just comes naturally." Scott blinked, and then snapped his mouth closed with an audible click.

Stiles dropped the underwear Scott had borrowed earlier. He seemed frozen in place for a few moments before leaning down to pick them up again. "You think I look good?" Color blossomed all across his face and neck.

Scott scratched his fingers through the back of his hair and looked up at the wall. He was so stupid; talking about how he thought Stiles looked good. They may have traded handjobs or whatever, but it wasn't like that made it suddenly okay to talk about stuff like this. He shrugged, and then finally looked Stiles in the eyes.

"Yeah, man. You're good looking, or whatever. I've told you that before. I'm sure loads of people have," Scott said.

Stiles shook his head adamantly. "No way, dude. People tell me I'm annoying. People tell me I can't shut up. People even tell me that I should take more medication, but no one ever tells me I look good." He grinned, and then turned to walk out of the bathroom door, but he paused half way through. "It's kind of cool that someone in the world thinks I'm attractive."

Scott smiled. He was pretty sure Stiles just wasn't good at taking compliments. That was another one of the many things they had in common. He was glad that his complexion was so dark; otherwise Stiles probably would have been able to see him blushing when he'd said he was ripped. Scott hesitated for a couple of minutes, let his fingers trail over the wall on his way back to Stiles's room.

He turned the corner and his breath caught in his throat. Stiles was just finishing pulling on a pair of tight boxer briefs. He stood in front of his dresser, the underwear drawer Scott had rifled through looking for something suitable hanging open. Scott hadn't gotten off in the shower, and his body seemed ready for another round. He surreptitiously tried to adjust himself beneath the towel, but right at that moment Stiles turned to toss him a new pair of boxers. They hit Scott in the chest and fell to the floor. Stiles's eyes were locked onto Scott's crotch. He caught his lower lip between his teeth.

Scott groaned, looked away from his friend in embarrassment. Being a teenager was bullshit. Stiles could obviously tell he was getting hard again, probably thought he was a complete horndog or something.

"S-sorry," Stiles mumbled. "I was so blown away by how good it was in the shower that I totally left you hanging. I'm a shitty friend."

Scott blinked rapidly, he shook his head. "No, it's cool. We were just getting even or whatever. You helped me out earlier when I was all twisted around. I returned the favor; it was a totally even trade."

"Was that all it was?" Stiles's voice was soft, so small that the room almost swallowed up the sound. "Just a favor? Nothing more?" He crossed his arms over his bare chest and stared at his toes.

Scott shifted nervously, crossed his arms over his own chest, unconsciously mimicking Stiles's position. How was he supposed to answer that? Was it just a favor? He'd liked it, both getting off and getting Stiles off too. Did that mean he was gay, or maybe bisexual? If he was would Stiles be okay with it? Would his mother? His stomach suddenly felt empty, like he hadn't eaten in days.

"Isn't that how it should be?" Scott closed his eyes. He never seemed to be able to say the right thing at the right time. "I mean, it was… it was good. The—"

"Handies?" Stiles chuckled. "Yeah, I certainly didn't hate someone else giving me a little TLC. If I'd known it would have been that easy to get some lovin I'd have made you dinner a long time ago."

Scott coughed and peered up at Stiles through hooded eyes. He wasn't sure if Stiles was joking or serious. His gut told him that the truth was somewhere in the middle, but he didn't know what that meant.

"I—"

"Scott," Stiles said. "It's cool if you're nervous. Ever since we fell all over each other in the living room I feel like my stomach's been trying to crawl its way out of my mouth. I don't really know what we're doing, and maybe I don't know why we're doing it, but I do know that I'm not unhappy that it happened."

Stiles admitting that he was nervous eased some of the tension in Scott's body. They were both on the same page, and that made everything a little bit easier, a little less terrifying. Sex or being intimate for the first time was terrifying. It made him feel like his insides were twisted up in knots, but it was also exhilarating.

"You don't regret it?"

"Hell no, I already said it was awesome."

"Do you want to try something else?"

Stiles closed the space between them, curled his fingers in the towel tied around Scott's waist. "Is that what you want? To experiment?"

Scott swallowed nervously. Experiment was such a vague word that it made him nervous. "I don't think I'm gay." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Stiles or himself.

Stiles shrugged. "I have no idea what I am, but I know I don't have to come up with an answer to that tonight. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Maybe we're just learning, like school, but actually fun instead."

A small smiled turned up Scott's lips at the corner. "C-can we just keep this to ourselves, whatever happens tonight?"

Stiles nodded. "Not like I called the school paper or anything promising breaking news. We can just do our own thing, like always. We'll figure it out, and if either of us get weirded out we'll call it quits."

Scott nodded. That seemed fair. "So… uhm… what now?"

Stiles opened his mouth, made a small sound that wasn't quite a word, and then let out a soft expulsion of breath. "You know what? I have no idea…"

Stiles not knowing what to do was a bad sign, that normally meant he would come up with some insane plan. Scott groaned. He was only just starting to realize what he'd gotten himself into.


End file.
